


The End of Things

by Fuhadeza



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 15:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18780640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuhadeza/pseuds/Fuhadeza
Summary: Adora stands amidst the ruins of the Fright Zone like a figure from legend. Catra’s seen this before. She’s seen the red run through Adora’s veins. But shehasn’tseen this before. It’s like one of Entrapta’s experiments, perfected. Catra knows the prototype; this is the finished product.Here's something a bit different. I got bored of speculating about season two, so have some speculation about the series finale instead!despite the title, this is broadly optimistic (if a little melancholy)





	The End of Things

**Author's Note:**

> this is intended to serve as a kind of pre-finale for the series as a whole. think of it as a thought experiment! (there's a 50k multi-chapter fic hiding somewhere in this one-shot, but I don't have the time to write that, so this will have to do!)
> 
> obviously this is all wild speculation. imagine whatever redemption story for catra you want. the only really important thing is that I'm imagining a future where adora grows increasingly stressed about her role as she-ra, to the point that she starts pushing people away. (personally I'm on the Light Hope Is Evil train, but Light Hope Doesn't Really Understand Adora is also a solid choice here :p)
> 
> I'll elaborate on my thoughts a bit at the end, and finally my thanks to [mjfeelz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjfeelz/pseuds/mjfeelz) for betaing this for me <3

Adora stands amidst the ruins of the Fright Zone like a figure from legend.

Her hands are clasped around the hilt of her sword, holding it in place, point down. There’s a circle around her—a radius of half a dozen paces, no more—demarcated only by the smoking remains of the Horde bots that have tried to penetrate it. Outside the circle is chaos. Within the circle, the wind stirs Adora’s hair.

Catra’s seen this before. She’s seen the red run through Adora’s veins. Her eyes are closed, but Catra knows they would be red, too, if they opened. Catra’s seen it before, she’s been on the other side of that ferocious intensity, she’s looked into the manic, purposeless red of Adora’s eyes and feared for her life—

But she _hasn’t_ seen this before. It’s like one of Entrapta’s experiments, perfected. Catra knows the prototype; this is the finished product. Adora is calm and still even as the invisible energy around her crackles and another bot falls to join its brethren. There is purpose in the set of her shoulders. The tip of the sword, half an inch from the ground, is glowing faintly.

Behind her the leaders of the Princess Alliance are arguing. Their voices bleed together like dyes on paper.

‘We must trust She-Ra—’

‘Trust her? We have to stop her before she finishes what the last She-Ra started!’

‘We don’t _know_ what happened to Mara—’

‘That’s right, she could be undoing what Mara did—’

‘Or she could be making it _worse_!’

‘If Hordak is trying to stop her, we have to help—’

‘If Hordak knew any more than we do, he’d be trying to control her, not stop her—'

Catra has learnt to tell them apart by now, their voices and their opinions both, but she tunes the words out. None of them are saying the _right_ words. She’s been watching Adora for some time. It’s all but impossible not to: she _hates_ seeing Adora like this, she always has, but she can’t turn away, either.

In that time she’s realised two things. First, the glow at the tip of her sword is getting steadily brighter. Adora is _doing_ something, here, now, not in the vague future the others are debating.

And second, whatever purpose drove her was not her own.

Scorpia is by her side the moment she takes a step forward. ‘Catra,’ she says, warningly. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Putting a stop to this.’

Scorpia rubs her claws together. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? We don’t really know what She-Ra is going to do, shouldn’t we try and figure out—’

‘It doesn’t matter what she’s doing.’ There’s a part of Catra that wants to snap at Scorpia, to force her back with the razor edge of her voice, but those days are behind them. Instead she says, ‘Do you trust me?’

Scorpia presses her lips together. ‘That’s not fair. Of course I trust you, but this is too big for just one person, don’t you think?’

‘No. That’s just it.’ Catra’s tail lashes. ‘This is exactly as big as one person. And they’—she gestures behind her at the other princesses—‘have forgotten who that person is.’

Catra waits a moment. When Scorpia doesn’t reply, she takes another step towards Adora. She doesn’t hurry. The ground is littered with shrapnel, bits of bots and armour and cast-off weapons, and she picks her way between them. Now would be a bad time to pay for a lifetime’s habit of going barefoot, she thinks, and the thought almost makes her laugh.

Even at her slow pace she’s halfway there before anyone notices.

‘What are you doing?’

Catra glances to the side, where Glimmer has appeared on top of a pile of wreckage. Briefly she considers ignoring her, but there’s a peace offering, here, in the fact that Glimmer didn’t teleport to block her path, and of all the princesses, she might understand. ‘This is wrong,’ Catra says.

‘What is?’

‘ _This_. Back there they’re all arguing whether _She-Ra_ is going to destroy the world or save it, but when was the last time any of them used her _name_?’

Glimmer freezes. ‘We care about Adora,’ she says quietly. ‘You know we do.’

‘I know. But do you care about She-Ra? Or her destiny?’

‘Catra, they’re the same person.’

‘ _No_. They’re _not_.’ It’s so simple, so blindingly obvious to Catra, that she has to dig her claws into her palms to stop herself lashing out. ‘Look at her! She’s infected again!’

‘She seems to have it under control,’ Glimmer says, but Catra can hear the edge of uncertainty in her voice.

‘The infection is under control. That’s true.’ Catra meets Glimmer’s gaze. ‘How do you know Adora’s the one controlling it?’

‘We have to trust her…’ Glimmer trails off, shakes her head. ‘You’re going to get yourself killed.’

‘I don’t care,’ Catra snaps. ‘I don’t care if she _is_ saving the world. If there’s any chance that _this_ ’—she gestures at Adora—‘isn’t her choice, we have to stop it. Can’t you feel it?’ she adds, and she doesn’t care that it comes out sounding like a plea. ‘Something isn’t _right_ here.’

Glimmer isn’t stupid. She’s not the sort of person who believes whatever she’s told. Catra can see the conflict writ plain on her face, everything she’s been told about She-Ra, the myth warring with the reality of her friend—

‘I’ll keep them off your back,’ Glimmer whispers. ‘Good luck.’ She vanishes.

Behind her Catra can hear voices raised in renewed discussion. She ignores them; turns back toward Adora.

She pauses at the top of the pile of bots surrounding Adora’s bubble of calm. Adora’s so close it’s all Catra can do not to launch herself at her, but caution prevails. There’s no sign of anything in the air before her, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. She raises a claw experimentally and taps at the air, as if knocking on a window. Nothing happens. Adora doesn’t move. Standing on the bots, Catra is level with her face. If Adora opened her eyes they’d be staring right at each other.

Catra bares her teeth. Her ears flatten back against her scalp.

She hops down into the circle.

She stumbles. There’s a horrid sense of nausea, and she’s on her knees, trying to work out what’s happening, and—silence. That’s all it is: utter silence. The air outside the circle is full of the background noise of warfare. Inside there is nothing. The sudden loss of sensation had disoriented her.

Catra gets up, carefully. She brushes herself off.

She says, ‘Hey, Adora.’

It’s a tiny movement, but Catra’s eyes are sharp and she’s watching for it. Beneath their lids Adora’s eyes rotate towards her.

That’s all she needs to see. Catra grins. ‘We’ve run into each other in some weird situations, but I gotta say, this really takes the cake, don’t you think?’

Adora doesn’t respond, of course. That’s not a problem—Catra knows her almost better than she knows herself. She can hold up both ends of this conversation.

‘Why am I here? Good question. All sorts of reasons, I guess. We were together at the start. I thought it made sense we were together at the end.’ The ground beneath Catra’s feet is smooth metal. Too much to hope for that there be a convenient patch of grass to curl up on. ‘And maybe you’re about to do your thing, fulfil your destiny or whatever, and we’re all gonna go home and celebrate, and I’ll feel like an idiot. But I’ll take that chance. Because, Adora, I need to tell you a secret.’

Catra’s growing tired of staring up at Adora’s face. She reaches out and touches Adora’s right arm. There’s a feeling like a hundred bursts of static coursing through her all at once and the hairs on her tail stand upright the way they used to when she got too close to one of the Horde’s generators—but that’s all.

‘Don’t laugh at me,’ she mutters. ‘You should see _your_ hair.’

She steels herself and scrambles up and onto Adora’s arms. It’s like climbing a statue—Adora doesn’t so much as twitch and her bracers, perfectly horizontal, make an awkward platform to perch on. Catra wraps her tail around Adora’s neck for balance and tries to imagine the two of them as they used to be. It almost works. It’s not so different to the way she used to sit on Adora’s chest.

Except Adora’s face is blank. She’s hard and unyielding and _blank_ , like a beach after the tide comes in. Once upon a time, that proximity would have calmed Catra. Now it tugs at her. Sets her on edge. The pulse of red in Adora’s veins saws at her with blunt teeth.

But at least now she’s looking _down_ at Adora.

‘I hate She-Ra,’ Catra says, and it feels like a weight lifting to say that out loud. ‘Not as much now as I used to. I’ve made my peace. Most of the time I can accept She-Ra means something to _you_. And most of the time it’s just you, but taller.’ She tugs at one of the pauldrons on Adora’s shoulders. ‘And in frankly a ridiculous outfit. But then, other times…’ Catra pauses. Was that a minute movement in Adora’s arms? ‘Other times,’ she goes on, voice a little shakier, ‘it’s different. You’re _not_ you. You’re distant. And then _this?_ ’ She gestures around them and nearly unbalances herself. ‘Whatever _this_ is? I _hate_ it.’ Catra’s breathing hard, from the strain of keeping her balance and the rush of words, tumbling over themselves as if Adora might interrupt at any moment. ‘Yeah, I know, Adora. I thought I was jealous too. I threw myself into that. I tried to hate you because you’d found yet another way to be _better_ than me. But then I saw how the other princesses treated you. And, look, I don’t doubt that they love you. But you turned up and you were Adora, She-Ra, legendary warrior, hero of destiny, all in one neat package.’

Catra cups Adora’s face. She’s half expecting her skin to be cold and limp but it’s not, it’s warm, and slowly, so slowly Catra can barely see it happening, Adora tilts her head up.

Her eyes are still closed. Her expression is still empty. Catra swallows past bile and forges on: ‘And that’s why I’m here, Adora. Because I’m messy, and I know you’re messy, and whatever we are it isn’t _neat_ , and that’s how it should be.’

This time she’s sure: a tremor goes through the muscles of Adora’s arms. Catra’s had enough of staring into closed eyes and she jumps backwards, watching Adora warily, but there’s no further movement.

Catra doesn’t want to look at Adora head-on. ‘I’m going to tell you one more story, Adora,’ she says. She’s using her name too often—she knows that. It rings oddly in her own mind, but she can’t stop. ‘Once upon a time there were two little girls and they loved each other more than anyone in the world.’ That simple statement is enough to bring tears to her eyes. ‘But one of them had a secret fear. She thought she wasn’t good enough, and she shut that fear up and ignored it and didn’t think about it until the day her best friend left her, and then—’ Catra grits her teeth through a sob. ‘And then she swore she would make herself strong, that she’d never need anyone but herself ever again. And it nearly destroyed her.’

The tears flow freely. She takes a deep breath. ‘I know I can’t convince you to give it all up. But you’re scaring me. You’re scaring all of us. Please, Adora, learn from me. I know you’re worried about what happened to Mara. I know you’re afraid you’re not worthy. But you _are_. _You_ are. Whatever happened a thousand years ago doesn’t have to be about you. Whatever Light Hope’s been telling you doesn’t have to be about you. What was a mistake for Mara doesn’t have to be a mistake for you. Come back to us and we’ll figure it out together.’ She shuts her eyes. She says, ‘You’ll always be my Adora, and I love you, and I’m here because nothing truly bad can happen so long as we have each other.’

Catra isn’t sure how much time passes. She’s afraid to open her eyes, afraid to look, because she’s run out of words—but the silence is oppressive. She can hear the blood pumping through her veins. It unnerves her.

She opens her eyes. Something has changed in her peripheral vision. Barely daring to breathe, she turns to look.

The sword remains where it was, suspended above the metal floor.

Adora isn’t supporting it anymore. She’s half a step closer to Catra. Her eyes are still closed. Her veins are still red.

She’s holding out one hand.

Catra takes it.

They dance at the end of things.

It is quiet and gradual and peaceful. Catra has her eyes closed again, and she almost misses the moment when Adora transforms back into herself. Except she never could miss it—her ears twitch to the sound of Adora’s footfall, her tail recognises the slimmer shape of Adora’s wrist, her whole body thrills to the way they’ve always fit together.

Catra opens her eyes for the final moments. They come to a stop, hands on each other’s waists, so close their foreheads are all but touching. Dimly Catra registers the sound of the sword clattering to the ground, and then every other sound, the sound of the world finally bleeding into their bubble again.

Blue eyes flutter open. ‘Catra?’ Adora sounds like someone surfacing from deep sleep, quiet and confused. ‘I dreamt I was alone…’

Catra’s ready. Adora crumples and she catches her and gathers her up in her arms. Adora’s body—her _real_ body—is featherlight and delicate against her breast, but she can feel Adora's heartbeat, strong and firm and clean, and there's not a trace of red left on her face. Her expression is drawn in the restful lines of true sleep.

Catra retraces her steps. It’s harder with Adora in her arms, but that’s all right. She has time.

Glimmer teleports out to meet her halfway. She doesn’t say anything, only glances at Adora’s face, nuzzled now into Catra’s left shoulder, and smiles. They make their way back to the others together.

There’s a moment of tension, the arrayed princesses staring at Catra as if unsure whether what she’s done qualifies as betrayal.

Glimmer says, ‘All right. Let’s start thinking about how to _actually_ save the world. Together.’

Catra leaves them to it. There’s a patch of grass beyond, springing impossibly from the metal carapace of the Fright Zone. She puts Adora down.

Then she sits and, watching the smoke rising from the remains of their childhood home, waits for her best friend to wake up.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic came about because I wanted to do something with catra being uncomfortable with the concept of she-ra. and then I thought, oh, that's actually a great metaphor for their relationship. adora thinks in terms of the big picture: good, evil, duty, destiny, etc, and she-ra kind of stands in for that sort of thinking. catra sees the world on a more personal level, where her relationships with people (i.e. adora) are more important than what's going on at large. that's why they're incapable of finding common ground, right?
> 
> so I thought, okay, imagine a future where catra joins the rebellion and comes to terms with she-ra. she's still not super thrilled, but adora helps her through it. there's some compromise. but _then_ imagine that something like this happens, where the compromise falls apart and adora goes in for some silly heroic, self-sacrificial It Is My Duty Alone To Bear kind of thing? how beautiful would it be if catra learns to accept support from other people just in time to stop adora making the same mistake?
> 
> (I don't know how well it came across in the text, and I don't want to come across like I think the princess alliance is being super unreasonable or whatever, so here's some more after-the-fact context: catra thinks in terms of adora, who she loves; adora-as-she-ra, who she _kind_ of secretly wishes didn't exist, but she understands it's important to adora and tries to be supportive; and she-ra, who she's actively uncomfortable around.)
> 
> anyway, hopefully some of that made sense. let me know what you thought in the comments! I'd love to hear where y'all think adora and catra's character arc is headed :)


End file.
